


True Blue of a Failing Empire

by Poetiicdissonance



Series: Dark Matter Stretching Between Stars [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Arkanis (Star Wars), Gen, Implied Femslash, Near Death, Possible Character Death, Pre-Canon, siege of Arkanis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22671340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poetiicdissonance/pseuds/Poetiicdissonance
Summary: At some point after the daytime blue had faded to indigo, and then to navy, the Rebellion comes.
Relationships: Armitage Hux & Armitage Hux's Mother, Armitage Hux & Maratelle Hux, Armitage Hux's Mother/Maratelle Hux, implied
Series: Dark Matter Stretching Between Stars [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630951
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	True Blue of a Failing Empire

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Have a prequel bit with Armitage getting Maratelle's pearls, this will make more sense if you also read Grey Area, but you don't have to, it can just be the Siege of Arkanis.

It’s midnight and it’s raining, and that alone wouldn’t be interesting, but it seemed like all the important things happened on nights like these. Armitage was born three minutes to midnight, with a storm raging outside. Maratelle has been there beside Eloise, and she can still recall the feeling of her bones being crushed in the tight grip. Brendol hadn’t been there that night. He’d been at a dinner the night his son was born. Now it seemed, the pattern would continue. 

The message came through urgently, the high, ringing whine of the comm echoing through the mostly empty halls of the house. The Rebel alliance was attacking, and the Empire had called for Brendol and Armitage’s immediate evacuation. (She didn’t stop to consider that her name hadn’t been mentioned, it would be foolish to. She was unimportant, and if the war was truly as over as rumors claimed, then they would need officers and children, not wives and mothers if they ever hoped to rebuild). 

The swift walk down to the kitchens was easy, almost all the servants had retired by the late hour, and the kitchen was mostly abandoned. Eloise was still there, arms covered in flour, and Armitage sat beside her, arms wrapped around his legs, as he nodded off tiredly. Eloise was singing softly, an old Arkanian lullaby that she had taught Maratelle when Armitage had been born. Maratelle knew moments like these: had seen them, had been part of them, and now she had to ruin it. 

“Armitage,” Maratelle called quietly. The half asleep boy blinked tiredly at her, but stood, walking towards her obediently (part of Maratelle hated that she knew that would serve him well sooner than she’d like). Eloise looked over curiously, but kept kneading at the bread. Maratelle didn’t want to look at the open and honest look on her face, not with what she was about to say. “Go to your father. Arkanis is being attacked, you’ll be safe with him.” It was a lie, but it was the best comfort she could offer him. 

She knelt down, until she was eye level with her stepson-- for a second she hesitated, before unclasping the string of pearls from around her neck, the uniform blue spheres pooling in her hand, as she wrapped one of Armitage’s fists around it. She’d had them almost fifteen years, and now perhaps, they could serve as a reminder of the two of them for him. “Take these, remember, you are meant for great things.” She pulled him close, arms wrapped around the boy, for just a few seconds before she pulled back, rising to her full height and moved away towards the window. The Rebels weren't close enough yet that they could hear the fighting, but they would soon. 

She didn’t look back at Eloise wishing her son a goodbye, or the calming platitudes she told him, or the watery “I love you.” that Maratelle had learned meant Eloise was holding back tears. They could both hope for good things for him, but they knew what Brendol was like, and that no matter what happened, Armitage would suffer. The door swung shut, and Maratelle could hear the sounds of their footsteps vanishing down the hallway, where Maratelle knew that Eloise had gone to hand Armitage to Brendol to be evacuated. It was his best chance at survival, but it still broke her heart to know that.

For a minute, the room was silent, distant sounds of the rain pattering against the roof, and the crackle from the kitchen fire the only sounds. When Eloise came back in, and stood beside her at the window Maratelle glanced at her through the corner of her eyes. The younger women was strong, but Maratelle knew that that strength would falter sooner or later, provided they lived that long. She almost reached out to offer some small comfort, but she didn’t, and the moment passed in a hushed silence. 

They both knew what Brendol would do, and of the gifts that Armitage had; he had told them once about the colours, and Brendol, they knew, would never allow for such a perceived weakness in his son.. “He’ll be alright, Eloise.” Maratelle promised, part of her believing it, part of her trying to convince herself of the truth. Armitage was a strong child, and if- when Brendol beat him and destroyed him, she wanted to think that he’d emerge stronger, not for it, but in spite of it. 

“Maybe,” Eloise said, her own gaze looking out over the gardens as the first sounds of the approaching battle came into range. “But we won’t be.” The worst part of that, Maratelle thought, fingers lifting to her neck where the pearls had been, was that it was true, and no soft words of mild comfort, or hope would change that.

“The Rebellion is known for their mercy, perhaps they may yet have some for us.” Eloise pursed her lips, looking so much older than the twenty-five she was. Outside, the sounds of the Rebellion came ever closer, and they could see shadowed silhouettes of Brendol and Armitage escaping out of the front door and getting into the ship that had landed however briefly to the side of the garden. 

Beside them, the fire blazed merrily, and the bread dough lay on the counter, half kneaded for tomorrow morning. Had it been any other night, Maratelle would have chastised Eloise for it, half kneaded dough was hardly a basis for any quality, but tonight... there would be no dawning, and no need for bread. “The stars will whisper his name.” Eloise whispered to herself as the ship took off.

“No, the stars will spell it out.” Maratelle corrected as they watched the small shuttle speed upwards and away from Arkanis. There were many things that deserved to be said, and a lack of words to say them. Neither of them moved from their place at the window, as the rain continued to splatter against the glass. The house was old, and the panes were still made of glass, and that was of all things, such a small thing to notice in a time like this. 

There was no point in running, perhaps there would have been a day ago, but now it was too late, there was nowhere in the house that would offer a safe escape. At the gates, the lights of the approaching battle came into view, with the sounds of a fight that Maratelle had expected. “Do you think they’ll have sympathy for us?” Eloise asked, and for a minute she seemed very young, scared of what would happen when the Rebellion entered those gates. 

Around them, the rain fell, and it was almost comforting. Arkanis so rarely didn’t. “They claim to be better than the Empire, although I wouldn’t know.” Maratelle said, and grabbed Eloise’s hand, squeezing it slightly, a reminder for both of them that there was someone else in the world who was there. “For you, I have no doubt.”


End file.
